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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25570027">Orange Peels</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Brief Sexual Content, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Early Mornings, M/M, Married Life, Morning Sex, Mostly it's him falling in love with his husband again, Not especially explicit, Short &amp; Sweet, Viktor's POV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:22:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25570027</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Viktor reaches across the table and places his hand over Yuuri’s, thumb idly tracing over his wedding band, a daily reminder of the neatly divided chapters of his life. <i>Before Yuuri</i> and <i>With Yuuri.</i><br/>________</p>
<p>During a quiet morning at home, Viktor briefly ponders the life and love he shares with Yuuri.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Orange Peels</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This takes place at some undefined point after Viktor has retired from skating competitively and they’ve returned to Japan.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mornings at home smell of bitter green tea, freshly peeled oranges, and toasted <em>shokupan</em>, charred at the edges.</p>
<p>For Viktor, it was all too easy to settle into life in Hasetsu again. This time with Yuuri as his husband.</p>
<p>Even in the winter months, mornings shone warm and golden on Kyushu. It’s a world away from the muted gray dawn of St. Petersburg. Viktor occasionally finds himself missing the sting of snow in his eyes and the damp, biting wind off the Neva. But, he’s at home here now. The place where Yuuri’s morning kisses taste of strawberry jam (homemade, a gift from their neighbor), where the old lady who runs the produce market down the street slips extra peaches into his bag when he's not looking, where Makkachin does little but doze in sunlight streaming through the windows. She only dreams of chasing seagulls these days.</p>
<p>Yuuri sits with a steaming cup of tea, each sip bringing him a little closer to the land of the living. They’d shared a home for years now, but Viktor didn’t think he’d ever become accustomed to the sight of Yuuri ambling into the kitchen with his glasses askew, wearing one of his old Russian team shirts and little else (on those days, the toast was <em>very</em> burned).</p>
<p>After draining half his tea, Yuuri plucks a mandarin from the bowl at the center of the table which he then methodically peels. He splits it in half and then into segments to share. Viktor insists Yuuri pop each slice, one by one, into his mouth. He loves the sound of Yuuri’s sleepy laugh every time he catches his fingertips, scented with orange peels, between his lips. It’s entirely on purpose, of course.</p>
<p>Just when Viktor thinks he finally understands, <em>this is it, this is what love is</em>, Yuuri inevitably surprises him. It’s rarely a grand romantic gesture - though there’s been plenty of those - it’s the fleeting moments, when they’re tucked away in their private little world - that make him realize how truly loved he is.</p>
<p>It’s the times when he finds a stack of ironed and neatly folded shirts on his side of the bed. When Yuuri packs the extra jacket he might want to wear because he has, naturally, run out of space in his own suitcase. Or late at night, when Yuuri presses a silent kiss to his forehead, thinking he’s fallen asleep. When Yuuri lovingly feeds him fresh fruit in the dim morning light of their kitchen.</p>
<p>Viktor reaches across the table and places his hand over Yuuri’s, thumb idly tracing over his wedding band, a daily reminder of the neatly divided chapters of his life. <em>Before Yuuri</em> and <em>With Yuuri</em>.</p>
<p>Before was impossibly lonely. Retirement had been a terrifying prospect. For 20 years, he lived for nothing but his work, immersed so thoroughly he nearly drowned with no one was there to notice. And then came Yuuri, offering a gentle hand when he needed it most. From across the ice, or their kitchen table, from inches away, their heads nestled against the same pillow, Yuuri’s gaze always cut straight through to the heart of him. </p>
<p>When Viktor leans in Yuuri meets him halfway. He kisses him softly, barely a brush of the lips. He still tastes of tea leaves and oranges. Viktor asks, “Come back to bed with me for a while?”</p>
<p>Yuuri’s smile warms him from head to toe.</p>
<p><br/>
_____</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Viktor never once doubted that this is where he belonged, wrapped up in Yuuri, a tangle of arms and legs under the covers, giggling when they bump their noses and foreheads.</p>
<p>When he shrugs off his robe, Yuuri kisses the curve of his shoulder. He follows the line of silk as it slips away, his breath leaving a warm, tingling trail down the length of his back and thighs.</p>
<p>Yuuri had long since memorized every contour and plane of Viktor’s body. He knew all the spots he liked to be kissed and touched. The little dip in his collarbone, the delicate spot right under his ear, the inside of his wrist, the back of his knee; secret places only Yuuri was allowed to whisper his wishes.</p>
<p>He takes the time to kiss each hidden place. Viktor closes his eyes, savoring every moment of Yuuri’s hands and lips on his body. Yuuri could kiss him a thousand times over and it would never be enough.</p>
<p>Viktor clenches the sheets in his fist and he buries his face in the pillow as slick fingers work him open. “<em>Please-</em>” He gasps when Yuuri’s fingers curl inside him.</p>
<p>“ここ?” Yuuri asks as his fingers furl again, drawing a low sweet whine from Viktor.</p>
<p>He’s still trembling when Yuuri’s hands trace down the length of his waist and hitch his hips up. He cries out softly as the curve of Yuuri’s cock presses into him from behind. </p>
<p>Yuuri nuzzles the nape of his neck, nose brushing against his ear. “Love you,” he whispers, before his hips start to roll in a steady, languid rhythm.</p>
<p>Viktor turns his head to look over his shoulder at Yuuri, his eyes glimmer with a fondness that still takes his breath away. Reaching back, braced on one forearm, he gently cups Yuuri’s face in his hand, “You’re everything to me.”</p>
<p>Of course, he meant every <em>I love</em> <em>you</em>, regardless of the language he spoke. But sometimes, love seemed inadequate a word to describe the vast, ineffable feelings he had for Yuuri. </p>
<p>The world always seems to stand still when they’re together, time slips away all too easily. Viktor’s eyes flutter shut and stray tears slip down his cheeks as Yuuri fucks him slowly, murmuring praises against his skin. Though every minute spent in Yuuri's company is a delight - on the ice, at home, cycling past rice paddies in the summer, or walking hand in hand through a new city - he never feels so safe and needed as when he’s folded in Yuuri's arms.</p>
<p>Minutes or hours later, much too soon either way, he feels Yuuri’s fingertips dig into his hip, leaving crescent-shaped marks in his skin. He comes, all but sobbing into the pillow, to the sound of Yuuri moaning his name between ragged breaths.</p>
<p>They manage a half-hearted cleanup and fall back into bed, not bothering to pick up the clothes strewn on the bedroom floor. Viktor tucks himself into Yuuri’s arms again. Yuuri kisses the top of his head, inhaling the lingering fragrance of his shampoo.</p>
<p>If he holds his breath, over the sound of his pulse in his ears, he can hear the distant roar of the ocean. Viktor begins to drift off, thinking back to the first time he stepped foot in Hasetsu. When he arrived at the station with Makkachin by his side, he was thrumming with a passion and eagerness he thought long lost. He didn’t dare to imagine that, one day, he would build a life here.</p>
<p>One impulsive decision and many years later, here he was, content in the arms of his husband, in a little house by the sea surrounded by orange and plum trees, loved and wanted - wholly and without reservation.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ここ = <i>koko</i> = Here?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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